


Extra-curricular activity

by ML Mead (moonlightmead)



Series: Fight or flight... or other alliterative possibilities [2]
Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:24:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1900515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightmead/pseuds/ML%20Mead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doyle's just realised that Bodie's touching is serious. Bodie's just realised that Doyle is interested. And Doyle knows just the place they can go to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extra-curricular activity

**Author's Note:**

> Follows directly on from Fight or Flight.

That's it, then. Doyle tightens his hand infinitesimally, and notes the fractional pause in Bodie's stride, giving him an opportunity to press his palm completely against Bodie's arse. The fabric of his trousers is warm, and the creases of the morning have been stretched away by the events of the day. Doyle's memory has no trouble providing him with what has happened to cause that stretching.

 _...Bodie bending casually down to extract milk from the fridge in what passes for CI5's kitchen ..._

_...Bodie flat on his stomach to peer beneath a car for spent bullets ..._

_...Bodie straightening to attention as he hears an impatient Cowley demand details of a possible suspect..._

All flash through his mind as Doyle's hand cups Bodie for a split second. 

Then Bodie is away, sauntering through the vaulted lobby to the open air outside. Damn him. Even as Doyle's thought damns Bodie, his mind sweeps up the view of Bodie in the light, to brighten his memory in the future. As he follows Bodie down the steps, the adrenaline keeping his feet light, his back straight, his step taut, things fall into place. 

"All done?" Bodie's voice is as nothing has happened. No offers made or accepted. 

Doyle shrugs elaborately.

"So, where to next, then? Any plans?" Bodie is still leaving it up to Doyle, leaving it up to Doyle to break cover and to make the first concrete move. He has the car keys to hand. 

"Fancy a workout," Doyle informs Bodie laconically as he moves round to the passenger side. "What about you?"

Bodie's eyes are considering. He's not entirely sure where this is going, thinks Doyle. Good.

"A workout." Neutrally-spoken. "Yeah. Good idea." He starts the car and executes a neat and illegal U-turn. Doyle waits until they are well underway. 

"Not the CI5 gym. Too busy." He reaches under the seat and produces a set of keys. Bodie's eyes flick to them from the windscreen and back. 

"Are those the keys I think they are?"

Doyle doesn't confirm, doesn't deny.

"No wonder Stan was so grumpy on the door this morning. You had them all the time."

Doyle doesn't admit anything. "Macklin's place. May as well make the most of it while he's beating up Special Branch."

Bodie flicks another glance at Doyle and then accedes with a nod. He spins the car round and stands on the accelerator almost before they are facing the right way again.

They are only ten minutes from Macklin's latest haven, an old school which ILEA have decreed unfit for the education of children. For the education of agents, however, it is ideal, from its heavy doors with safety glass interrupting long corridors, to the crash mats kept under the hall stage. 

There is no more talking on the way there. Doyle is too busy anticipating. What is Bodie expecting? What will Bodie try to do? Bodie started this - surely he did? - but Bodie seems entirely content to let Doyle take the lead. Why? Is he waiting for Doyle, or is he planning something himself?

In the event, it is all astonishingly easy. Bodie inserts the car with a flourish into the parking space and they emerge without speech. 

Doyle saunters round the front of the car for Bodie's benefit, and is sure to hitch his jacket up so that Bodie's eyes can see what his hands have been sampling at snatched intervals, his jeans moving easily with each stride. He blesses the good fortune that led him to whip the keys earlier that day -- actually for an entirely different key on the same ring, but fortune favours the bold -- and his luck holds as he fits the correct keys into the three locks one after the other. 

He slips in and holds the door fractionally ajar with a finger to his lips. Bodie raises his eyebrows but is apparently willing to play along, and slithers in, between the door and Doyle. Doyle's hand is there, ready to catch Bodie's hip and arse as Bodie slides past. Bodie turns his head and raises an eyebrow. _You trying to impress me?_ his expression asks.

Doyle grins, brilliantly. "Safety first," he mouths, and locks the door behind Bodie. He turns on his heel and saunters through the lobby in the direction of the hall. He doesn't look round to see whether Bodie follows. He knows he will. When he reaches the hall door, he walks on past, down the corridor running down the side, and he chooses instead the access door to the stage, reached by half a dozen steps.

At the top of the steps, with his hand on the door handle, he pauses, and turns back. He regards Bodie thoughtfully.

"When we said 'workout'," he offers, "We're not really going to waste time on the mats, are we?"

"No," agrees Bodie, saturnine in the gloom of the corridor. Doyle does not need good light to know that Bodie's eyes are crinkled in that wary amusement. 

Doyle nods. "Didn't think so." He turns and pushes the door open. "Get in here."

Backstage is pitch black, with only a dimness some yards away to indicate the stage itself. Doyle doesn't want the stage. No point in courting disaster. And if they are going to dispense with the workout, do they really need those crash mats? No. Back here is much better. He waits for Bodie to follow him through the door and seizes him as he does so.

"Ray?" Bodie starts, and then tenses, to grapple back as Doyle's hand comes up to cover his mouth.

Doyle keeps one hand over Bodie's mouth and swings the other one down and round to cover Bodie's arse. Using that hand as a lever, he brings their bodies closer, so that they are touching from their hips up and Bodie is falling backwards against the wall. Doyle's knuckles are smacked against it as they land, and he feels Bodie's breath huffs damply onto his other hand.

Bodie starts to say something and then breaks off, instead just twisting his face around and out.

"Don't," he mutters, and takes a deep exhalation. Before Doyle can wonder which don't -- _don't push, don't crash me against walls, don't cover my mouth, don't stop?_ \-- Bodie's hands are inside his jacket and feeling their way over Doyle's t-shirt. One hand encounters the horizontal band of Doyle's holster, and feels its way under that, flattening to slip through. It tightens on Doyle, holding him against Bodie. Doyle can feel the heat of the pads of Bodie's fingerpads through his t-shirt. 

Obviously not _don't do that_ , then. 

Bodie's fingers press Doyle's back, pulling him irresistibly towards Bodie. Bodie has got his balance and is braced against the wall, sandwiched between a bank of light switches to the side and a ladder on the other. Doyle's eyes are adjusting to the dim light and he can see that Bodie is watching him, all his attention focussed on his partner, and there is a light of something more than amusement and willingness to take what is on offer. Bodie wants something more.

One of Bodie's hands is still on his shoulder blades, fingers splayed and pressing them together. He withdraws the other and moves his arm further up. Doyle feels Bodie's hand on his head, pulling his head down to Bodie too.

And then Doyle finds out what Bodie wants, as Bodie's lips meet his and instantly force his open. Lips to lips, mouth to mouth, breath to breath. Bodie's mouth is cool, and his tongue pushes forward into Doyle's mouth. Doyle is too shocked to react for a moment, and then pushes forward himself. Urgently, he responds, his lips pressed hard back against Bodie's, their mouths sharing the same air, the same moisture. The minute stretches, and then he tears his mouth away with a gasp. Bodie lets him, but keeps his hands on him, not letting him move away. However cool Bodie's mouth and fingers may be, Doyle can feel a warmth where their crotches press together, and he is sure it is not entirely his own heat. He takes a step forward, feeling Bodie's fingers clutch his back and a hardness that is nothing to do with guns, holsters or unnoticed scenery props presses against his groin. 

Experimentally, he grinds. 

Bodie makes a half-groan, "Mmm."

"Alright?" Doyle offers.

"Alright, what?" Bodie focusses on Doyle more clearly. "Alright with this? Alright with you? _Yes_ , Doyle, obviously. Get on with it."

Doyle is momentarily at a loss. What does Bodie want, exactly? He had had in mind a swift meeting of hands and cocks, and if it went well, then Bodie would maybe have a treat and something else dampening his cock, but that would have depended on how things went. How Bodie reacted. He doesn't want to set patterns that would end up with Bodie trying to establish some hierarchy. Not one that involves Bodie above Doyle, at least.

So go for something mutual, then, he thinks, and finds his fingers are way ahead of his brain, unbuckling Bodie's belt and releasing it. He can feel the pressure behind the zip. Rather than release it, he attends to his own, first, unbuckling, unzipping, and then pushing both jeans and pants down, wriggling to shift Bodie's hand. Bodie takes the hint and pushes the clothes down from behind as well, leaving Doyle bare-arsed behind and cock and balls tight in front. Finally he releases Bodie's zip and Bodie slumps slightly. "Mmmm."

Doyle reaches slowly forward, finally allowing his hands to settle over Bodie's genitals. One hand rings his penis whilst the other cups his balls. Bodie lets his eyelids lower slightly but keeps his gaze focussed on Doyle. There is an air of – achievement? Acceptance? _Content?_ \- in them which startles Doyle. Bodie's mouth curves into an unguarded smile, betraying a lighter heart than Doyle might have expected to see, considering what they are doing, and his hips press forward, thrusting his groin further into Doyle's hand. Doyle takes the hint and tightens his fingers over Bodie's balls, gently. He moves his other hand up Bodie's shaft. The tip is seeping, and Doyle doesn't even think before bringing his thumb and forefinger up to coat them in the clear pre-come. Bodie exhales happily. 

_Mutual_ , Doyle reminds himself. Although if Bodie is happy to lie back and be toyed with, perhaps he isn't so pushy as Doyle feared. His fingers stretch back down Bodie's shaft. Languidly at first, but with increasing purpose. 

"Like that?" he whispers.

Bodie remains silent, but his body answers. His cock is as hard as stone now, as hot as fire. His arms tauten, his hands still on Doyle's arse. and he tilts his neck, letting his gaze range up and down their bodies. He looks down at what Doyle is doing to him, those swiftly moving hands, for a long moment, tensing, before convulsively jerking forward. Just the once. Doyle's willing hands receive him, pushing back at him.

Bodie jerks again. This time his hands clutch Doyle's arse and pull him forward hard. Doyle just avoids jamming himself against his hands on Bodie's cock, moving them out of the way, and grinds his groin against Bodie's for a long moment. Bodie's eyes close and he pushes himself back at Doyle, his shoulders bunched against the wall and his hips jutting as far forward as the weight of Doyle on his body allows. Doyle feels the strength beneath him, knows that he is in control, containing that strength, and exults.

The pressure is maintained for glorious seconds, Bodie slipping over Doyle's penis and balls, and then released. Now Bodie's hands release him slightly, just lying lightly on his arse. Bodie is trying to guide him to move back again. Doyle lets himself be guided back, and then waits for the inevitable push.

There it is, Bodie's hands grabbing him and directing his movements. Not just in and out, but now moving up and down, groin to groin, penis to penis, frotting like there is no tomorrow, Bodie's hands on Doyle's arse, Doyle's hands gripping Bodie's shoulders so hard there will be bruises. Doyle lets Bodie direct this, confident himself that he has made no mistake. 

After they come, Bodie does not immediately let go. His fingers press into Doyle's back briefly again before releasing him. Doyle takes a step over and lets himself subside onto the wall, alongside Bodie, his shoulder and the length of his arm touching Bodie's. He exhales.

They lean together against the wall. Bodie's breathing is ragged and harsh. Or is it his? It is either and both, he realises, their breath indistinguishable. As their breath regains rhythm and quietens, the moisture of sweat and other substances cools slowly on his skin. He darts an eye at Bodie, only to find Bodie eyeing him. He looks sated but wary, happy to wait for Doyle to break the silence, happy to continue on with no words.

"What?" asks Doyle, his voice challenging. 

Bodie's lips curl into a grin. 

"You've done that before."

Instantly, he is on the alert.

"And? If I have?"

"Hey. I'm not objecting." Bodie gestures down in the general direction of his groin. "It was good. I'm just saying."

Doyle isn't entirely mollified but keeps his voice level. 

"You're saying you haven't? Not convincing me, mate. Fast learner, maybe," Bodie accepts such a description as his due, as Doyle continues, "But no-one learns that fast."

"Oh, I dunno," comments Bodie. "Always been able to learn fast on the job." He's clearly ready to tease about this, to make Doyle prise every detail out by asking. 

Doyle has no intention of playing Bodie's game again, of letting Bodie have the initiative again. He bares his teeth and lifts his hand in mock-threat. Bodie winces dramatically.

"Okay, no, not my first time either," Bodie agrees.

"Thought not. And?" he prompts, into the silence. 

"And? And nothing. I'm curious though. What brought this on?"

Doyle tilts his head. "Eh? All that touching, and you have to ask?"

Bodie frowns slightly. "Been doing that for ages. Given up expecting any reaction."

Doyle is perplexed. "So why'd you do it, then?"

"What? This?" Bodie's hand sidles its way between Doyle's arse and the wall. "Be serious. It was there, I wanted to, and if you weren't going to belt me for it, why should I stop?"

Put like that, Doyle can see that Bodie has a point. 

"So you didn't expect this, then?"

"Just said so, didn't I?" Bodie's post-coital relaxation is clearly a short-lived affair. Doyle grins, deliberately provokingly.

"But you were willing enough. I'm curious," Doyle levers himself off the wall and starts to tuck himself in. Bodie follows suit as Doyle continues. "Do this a lot, do you?"

"Not a lot. But on and off, yeah," agrees Bodie, watching Doyle.

Doyle raises his eyebrows. He hadn't actually expected a straight answer on that. He wonders where Bodie goes to satisfy this itch, how safe Bodie is. He presumes Bodie's not stupid about it, and he certainly hasn't heard a whisper on the squad or off it. 

"So..." He wonders how to put this. "You going to keep doing it? With other people?"

Bodie shrugs. "Depends. Don't want to be out of a job. But don't particularly want to have to stop, either." He looks at Doyle. "Who I do it with, though... " He tilts his head, and grins. "Let me know next time you fancy... what was it? A workout?"

"Yeah," agrees Doyle. "Action replay, would it be?"

"I dunno." Bodie considers. "Depends what you're up for. Who knows, we might want to make it as far as the crash mat some time. So to speak."

Now that, Doyle didn't expect. He likes the sound of it, though. Likes it enough to push. "Best of three?"

"Best of three," agrees Bodie.


End file.
